


Shaving Cream

by Hatteress (goddammitstacey)



Series: Tripping Verse [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: For reasons, Hand Jobs, Leg shaving, M/M, PWP, which leads to porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 17:12:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddammitstacey/pseuds/Hatteress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Response to a prompt over at Tumblr. Dean has to shave his legs for a case. Enter Cas, who’s only too happy to lend a hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shaving Cream

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fic that taught me that [joking about shaving legs](http://hatteress.tumblr.com/post/28830340388/i-wanna-do-something-for-my-followers) while taking fic prompts on Tumblr spawns a seriously cracky premise followed by ridiculous porn.
> 
> Part of the Tripping 'verse but can be read as a PWP standalone. Unbetaed and utter crack.

Dean'd had to do a lot of shit in the name of undercover jobs. He'd had to hail Mary like he meant it, keep a bunch of hormonal teenagers in line (not to mention alive) and – on one memorable occasion – swing his ass around a stripper pole while a fifty year old woman tried to floss her teeth with his thong.

This? This was worse. And seriously? _Thong_. If that wasn't perspective Dean didn't know what was.

_"You're going undercover as a professional swimmer, Dean. This is something they do,"_ Sam had said, not even trying to hide the gleeful grin as he'd held out the drug store bag like he was dispensing candy. Terrible, emasculating, awkward candy.

Dean yanked the tap off a little harder than was probably necessary and eyed the steaming tub like it had teeth.

Be a hunter, they'd said. It'll be manly and violent and tough, they'd said.

Dean stripped quickly, stopping at his boxer briefs after giving the cold edge of the tub the stink eye. It'd probably be easier just to get _in_ the tub, he knew but... Well... Gross.

A few minutes later he was regretting his decision. Balanced precariously on the bath rim, one foot up on the tap, he was attempting to spread jasmine scented (he was going to kill Sam, seriously) shaving cream on his calf. Attempting being the operative word there. Dean shifted to reach under his ankle and wobbled like a spinning top. It was a goddamn miracle he hadn't already pitched over backwards and cracked his head open on the tiles.

Which was why, when the flap of wings hailed Cas's arrival, Dean almost did just that. It was only Cas's strong grip on the back of Dean's neck that kept him from the most heinously embarrassing obituary known to man.

"Sonofabitch, Cas!"

Cas lifted him back into semi-stability on the edge of the tub and Dean tried and failed not to clutch at the tap like he was the busty blonde in a romance novel to it's hero.

"Hello Dean," Cas said, like he saved Dean from impending death every damn day, which... Actually, fair call.

Dean grunted and then used his spare hand to yank Cas down into a kiss, because narrowly averted concussion or not, it'd still been two weeks since he'd last seen Cas and Dean did not do withdrawals well.

Cas hummed into his mouth like it'd been a hard day at the office and Dean was a particularly fine brand of whiskey, and very suddenly Dean was contemplating the logistics of fitting two grown men into a small, hotel-room tub. Then Cas was pulling back, swiping a thumb across Dean's bottom lip. "What are you doing?"

Dean grinned. "Saying hello."

Cas's eyes bled amused fondness – and one day Dean was going to be used to seeing that pointed his way, really – before Cas nodded down to Dean's leg. The leg that was still covered in shaving cream. Just like the hand that was now tangled up in Cas's coat. Agh.

"Undercover job," Dean explained - attempting to wipe some of the cream off Cas's collar and only succeeding in smudging it further. "Sorry," he muttered when Cas glanced down. Cas's answer was to shrug out of the coat, letting it fall to the bathroom floor in a heap along with his jacket and seriously – the sight of Cas still fully clothed in dress shirt and pressed pants should not affect Dean the way it does. Every. Damn. Time.

Cas folded himself into a perch on the edge of the tub and swiped one finger through the shaving cream on Dean's knee. It shouldn't have been hot – watching Cas press his fingers together, white foam squeezing out from between them...but well, Dean's not made of fucking stone here okay? One day there was going to be a kink Cas _didn't_ bring out in him.

"You're shaving your legs?" Cas asked, like Dean did this shit every damn weekend.

Dean sighed as he picked up the razor – it was his own, hastily retrieved from his bag after finding the pink, sparkly monstrosity Sam had picked up at the drug store.

"Something's taking out members of the Ohio masters swim club," he explained. "I have to pass as a competitive swimmer."

Cas nodded as he stood and Dean turned his attention back to the task at hand.

Sending a quick prayer to the gods of please-fuck-let-this-not-be-permanent, Dean steeled himself and swiped a tentative stripe up his shin with the blade.

He didn't know what he was expecting exactly. Not pain because he wasn't an idiot; he knew how biology worked thanks, but... Something? Something more than the slight tingling of air hitting skin no longer covered in shaving cream at least.

"This is fucking weird," he said, listening to Cas shuffle behind him. The sounds probably should have registered sooner – it wasn't like Dean wasn't wholly fucking used to them by now, but when Cas suddenly appeared back beside him, stripped down to his slacks and – _shit_ – splashing his feet down into the tub as he got comfortable Dean couldn't help but jump. "What the-"

Cas cut him off by snagging the razor from Dean's hand, seemingly unconcerned when some of the tub water splashed up onto his trouser cuffs. "Give me your foot," he commanded.

Dean gaped. "What?"

And then, because Cas had gotten all sorts of used to putting Dean where he wanted him lately, he just leaned down, picked the foot of Dean's shaving cream-covered leg out of the hot water and propped it on his own lap.

It took Dean a second to realize what's going on, another three before he accepted it. "Are you fucking serious?"

Cas didn't answer, just fit his thumb into the groove of Dean's ankle with a smooth sureness that did _things_ to Dean's stomach as he got to work.

Dean rolled his eyes as he leaned back against the bathroom wall. He'd learned fast to just go with things when Cas got this sort of focused, particularly if said focus included Cas's hands on him (because, hell _yes_ ). Still, he took a moment to appreciate the special brand of fuckery that was him sitting in his underwear, having his legs shaved by a fucking angel of the lord.

Dean learned quickly – between bouts if trying not to swallow his own tongue when Cas pressed just _so_ into the arch of his foot – that all those ads with the half naked, awesomely flexible women shaving non-existent hair off their legs where utter bullshit. There was no one-pass, easy-off magic to be had, but Cas was stretching that angelic patience thing he had going on and slowly but surely he was leaving behind clear, weirdly smooth skin.

He was also leaving Dean with a very fucking prominent erection. Because apparently his body didn't care about things like goddamn _context_ when Cas's hands were all over him.

Dean squirmed as Cas trailed the blade up his thigh, fingertips hooking in behind Dean's knee to keep him steady. "Cas..." Jesus, how was that his voice? Dean swallowed heavily, very aware that he was hard and fucking _leaking_ at the feeling of Cas _shaving his fucking legs_  for shits sake. How was this his life? "Cas c'mon..."

"Almost finished," Cas said, voice calm and entirely unaffected, the _fucker_. Dean groaned as Cas's hand pressed Dean's leg wider to get to the final few strips of shaving cream on his inner thigh. Of all the kinks Dean could have had, seriously...

Dean hadn't even realised he'd closed his eyes until they flew open at the feel of the cloth, warm and wet against his skin as Cas wiped off the excess spots of shaving cream. And oh... _oh holy shit_. Dean had been with his share of freshly shaven women and had always relished the smooth glide of skin on skin it afforded but this...this was something else entirely. With no hair to capture the friction of the water he was left only with the sensation of heat, trickling in rivulets over his skin. It was a fucking weird as hell sensation. It was also...strangely awesome.

Cas finished the cleanup with all the speed of a goddamn glacier, spending a mind-melting few minutes massaging deep into Dean's calf which – while amazing – was so not where Dean needed his hands right now. "Cas- fuck-"

Cas let go of Dean's foot. "Shift around." Oh thank fuck... "Give me your other foot."

"What?" _What?!_

Cas's answer was a raised eyebrow and a small smirk which was just all kinds of unfair.

"You have GOT to be kidding me," Dean groused. Cas's eyebrow tipped and fuck Dean's life, he knew that expression. It was the one that said, 'the faster you do as I say, the faster I do what you want'; the one that made Sam cough 'whipped' into his hand like a goddamn sixth-grader whenever he saw it. God-fucking-dammit.

Dean hauled his other foot out of the water and thrust it into Cas's face with all the grace of a two year old throwing a tantrum.

"You are a motherfucking cock-tease," he said bitterly, trying and failing not to groan when Cas pressed devious fingers into the heel of his foot.

"I don't understand that reference," Cas said, all innocence and Dean knew that tone too. Didn't understand _his ass_.

The shaving cream appeared in Cas's hand way too fast to have been anything but angel mojo but Dean didn't get a chance to call him on it before Cas was upending the can and spreading a line of the puffy, white contents up Dean's leg. Pretty _high_ up Dean's leg actually. Almost to the point where leg wasn't leg anymore.

"Hey – _just_ the legs, man – there will be no need for aerodynamics around there."

Cas ducked his head but Dean caught the smirk anyway. "Yes Dean."

The second leg took less time than the first, though it didn't feel that way. Continental drift moved faster as far as Dean was concerned. By the time Cas was pulling his weird/awesome wash off move, Dean was a shaking, needy mess. It was all he could do to keep still, razor skirting the flesh of his inner thigh be damned.

"Cas, you fucking _asshole_ -"

"All done," Cas said, and Dean was almost too far gone to have heard the note of breathlessness to the tone. Almost.

Dean all but tackled Cas backwards, relying on Cas's resilience to cop the majority of the brunt as they landed hard on the tiled floor. Cas grunted and Dean felt bad for all of two seconds before his body – running on some sort of awesome cock on cock instinct – lined them up and _oh hell yes_.

In that moment Dean gained a new respect for Cas's poker face because – oh yeah – that was a fucking answering boner if ever he'd felt one.

It was like a detonation. Cas moaned, broken and real as he surged up to meet Dean, almost bucking Dean off his lap as he clashed their mouths together; dirty, deep and perfect. Dean didn't stop to think, clutching hard and desperate at Cas's hair; his shoulders; fucking _anything_ before his hands found glorious purpose and beelined for Cas's pants.

" _Dean_ -" Cas bit out, desperate and so fucking wanting, Dean was going to go blind with it.

"Fucking _c'mon_..."

Zippers could burn in fucking _hell_ , seriously.

It seemed like a millennium before Dean finally tore Cas's slacks open and down enough to afford him access. Oh but Jesus Christ, was it worth it.

Cas's mouth, fastened now to Dean's neck, slackened around a pornstar moan and Dean bit his own lip, needing this; these _sounds_ because _fuck_...

"Dean please-"

Not fair. All kinds of not fair.

Dean tensed as Cas hooked his hands behind Dean's knees, palms feeling hot and perfect against the new smoothness of Dean's legs and holy shit, but if that wasn't the best new, crazy sensation known to man. His knees protested when Cas hauled him closer but his cock was only too fucking happy with the proceedings as it dragged deliciously against Dean's own knuckles.

" _Fuck_ ," Dean swore, shifting his grip, catching Cas's fucking _mewl_ against his lips as he started jacking them both.

"Dean- I'm going to-"

Dean groaned, licking hard into Cas's mouth, loosing rhythm quickly as Cas shuddered against him...

"C'mon Cas..." _fucking please_.

He felt more than heard Cas come; the grip on his legs tightening as Cas tensed under him, dragging him closer and biting down hard on Dean's bottom lip. It was enough to tip Dean over the edge himself; his orgasm punching out of him with all the finesse of a freight train.

"Jesus..." Dean panted, coming down to the feeling of Cas's fingers skating sated little paths up his thighs. Dean groaned into Cas's neck, where he'd collapsed in all his manful dignity. His knees were already twinging on the hard floor, reminding him this position wasn't sustainable but - god help him - Cas's hands trailing up newly shaven skin was actually worth the discomfort. Cas hummed contentedly against Dean's temple before nosing at his jaw like a fucking cat until Dean took the hint and leaned up a bit to slot their mouths together.

He was totally going to need to stock up on shaving cream.

**Author's Note:**

> Want a prompt fill of your very own? Attack me on Tumblr: [hatteress.tumblr.com](http://hatteress.tumblr.com)


End file.
